This book’s brevity belies its thematic scope, sweep, and significance. Ba (1929-1981), a Senegalese author, teacher, feminist, and activist, set as her focus the experience of postcolonial women, drawing in no small part on the events and circumstances of her own life. She had a reasonably privileged upbringing, and she was married to (but subsequently divorced) a Senegal MP, ultimately raising nine children. Just as importantly, she lived through the last years of colonial rule, the transition to liberation, and the forging of independent national trajectories. She embodied the very socio-cultural tensions she analyzed and critiqued. Her unique position thus allowed her to make fundamental contributions to the “eternal questions of our eternal debates” (p. 18) – debates about contemporary issues directly confronting modern African women. Her most poignant observations and insights relate to the sexual and gender inequalities resulting from indigenous African cultural customs, influenced along the way by both Islamic religious and Western colonial traditions. That makes for quite a mix. But while her work may have been specific to Francophone West Africa, her voice and vision were truly continental.
Very telling in its wording, one can see exactly where Ba is heading by going no further than the dedication page: “To all women and to men of good will.” More than anything else, this novel is a critique of patriarchy – a socio-cultural power structure that reflects and perpetuates male domination. And patriarchy manifests and institutionalizes itself in complex, multifaceted ways:
· Through indigenous social and cultural rituals and practices [“…the bog of tradition, superstition, and custom…” (p. 15); “…we suffered the social constraints and heavy burden of custom” (p. 19)].
· Through religious traditions (in this case, Islam).
· Through sex, gender, and marriage/family/kinship obligations and expectations (in this case, polygamy is the focus of attention).
· Through colonialism, decolonization, liberation, and independence projects and processes.
· Through economic and educational institutions and opportunities (or lack thereof) [“We have a right, just as you have, to education, which we ought to be able to pursue to the furthest limits of our intellectual capabilities. We have a right to equal well-paid employment, to equal opportunities” (p. 61).].
· Through political governance [“The right to vote is an important weapon” (p. 61).].
That Ba is able to address all of these in some way in So Long a Letter makes it a rich and powerful book. This is a long, thoughtful, reflective letter from Ramatoulaye to her childhood friend Aissatou, after her husband, Modou Fall, dies. Before his death, Modou had taken on a second wife, Binetou, who was much younger (indeed, she was a daughter’s friend) than Ramatoulaye. Sorrow and resignation mark the letter, as she goes through the motions of burying the husband she once loved so much, while the simultaneous indignities in the face of her husband’s polygamous betrayal are difficult to bear [“He mapped out his future without taking our existence into account” (p. 9)]. Ramatoulaye acts duty-bound to religious and cultural tradition, but she begins to question and challenge the pillars of patriarchy. In her laments, reflections, and advice, she emphasizes the worth of women in and of themselves – traditions and customs relegated to secondary status. While women are clearly important to African society, this letter argues, their actions and destinies are shaped, restricted, or entirely determined by men. Their position must be shifted from the margins, their voice heard and given greater prominence. Women must be given the power, authority, and autonomy afforded men to control the circumstances and trajectory of their lives. The contributions of women have been (and are) immense, their efforts constant [“…first up in the morning, last to go to bed, always working” (p. 20)], and they should be give commensurate recognition:
For So Long a Letter, Mariama Ba was the first winner of the Noma Award for publishing in Africa.
If alive today, Ba would appreciate the centrality of women embodied in the Millennium Development Goals, and thus contemporary development projects. She would simultaneously recognize, however, how much work remains to be done.
For an even more contemporary perspective by an accomplished Nigerian author, see the work of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a 2008 MacArthur Fellow.
Very telling in its wording, one can see exactly where Ba is heading by going no further than the dedication page: “To all women and to men of good will.” More than anything else, this novel is a critique of patriarchy – a socio-cultural power structure that reflects and perpetuates male domination. And patriarchy manifests and institutionalizes itself in complex, multifaceted ways:
· Through indigenous social and cultural rituals and practices [“…the bog of tradition, superstition, and custom…” (p. 15); “…we suffered the social constraints and heavy burden of custom” (p. 19)].
· Through religious traditions (in this case, Islam).
· Through sex, gender, and marriage/family/kinship obligations and expectations (in this case, polygamy is the focus of attention).
· Through colonialism, decolonization, liberation, and independence projects and processes.
· Through economic and educational institutions and opportunities (or lack thereof) [“We have a right, just as you have, to education, which we ought to be able to pursue to the furthest limits of our intellectual capabilities. We have a right to equal well-paid employment, to equal opportunities” (p. 61).].
· Through political governance [“The right to vote is an important weapon” (p. 61).].
That Ba is able to address all of these in some way in So Long a Letter makes it a rich and powerful book. This is a long, thoughtful, reflective letter from Ramatoulaye to her childhood friend Aissatou, after her husband, Modou Fall, dies. Before his death, Modou had taken on a second wife, Binetou, who was much younger (indeed, she was a daughter’s friend) than Ramatoulaye. Sorrow and resignation mark the letter, as she goes through the motions of burying the husband she once loved so much, while the simultaneous indignities in the face of her husband’s polygamous betrayal are difficult to bear [“He mapped out his future without taking our existence into account” (p. 9)]. Ramatoulaye acts duty-bound to religious and cultural tradition, but she begins to question and challenge the pillars of patriarchy. In her laments, reflections, and advice, she emphasizes the worth of women in and of themselves – traditions and customs relegated to secondary status. While women are clearly important to African society, this letter argues, their actions and destinies are shaped, restricted, or entirely determined by men. Their position must be shifted from the margins, their voice heard and given greater prominence. Women must be given the power, authority, and autonomy afforded men to control the circumstances and trajectory of their lives. The contributions of women have been (and are) immense, their efforts constant [“…first up in the morning, last to go to bed, always working” (p. 20)], and they should be give commensurate recognition:
“Women should no longer be decorative accessories, objects to be moved about, companions to be flattered or calmed with promises. Women are the nation’s primary, fundamental root, from which all else grows and blossoms” (pgs. 61-62).
“I am not indifferent to the irreversible currents of women’s liberation that are lashing the world. This commotion that is shaking up every aspect of our lives reveals and illustrates our abilities. My heart rejoices each time a woman emerges from the shadows. I know that the field of our gains is unstable, the retention of conquests difficult: social constraints are ever-present, and male egoism resists... [But] I remain persuaded of the inevitable and necessary complementarity of man and woman” (p. 88).
For So Long a Letter, Mariama Ba was the first winner of the Noma Award for publishing in Africa.
If alive today, Ba would appreciate the centrality of women embodied in the Millennium Development Goals, and thus contemporary development projects. She would simultaneously recognize, however, how much work remains to be done.
For an even more contemporary perspective by an accomplished Nigerian author, see the work of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a 2008 MacArthur Fellow.
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